


All of You

by evansweaters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Smut, Breeding, F/M, Light Angst, Light breeding kink, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23018785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evansweaters/pseuds/evansweaters
Summary: In the deepest part of the night, Steve Rogers comes back home.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 236





	All of You

**Author's Note:**

> the other night, i was talking to @sippingchai about how much i relate breeding kink with nomad!steve, and somehow it’s turned into this emotional little thing. no real plot, honestly, beyond being a snapshot loving steve when he’s on the run. i hope you all enjoy!

You know he’s there without even opening your eyes. Steve had always had a way of commanding a room just by being in it, and it would seem that continues to be true now. There’s a heat in your bedroom that can _only_ be him; his familiar aroma rising with the weight of his aura. Your room is still dark when you shift to search him out, so it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the outline of him, back to your window with his arms folded over his chest. As the haze of your sleepiness clears, you realize he’s watching you back, eyes focused enough that your breath catches, and you gather he’s been waiting for you to stir for some time.

But, there’s nothing about his stance that’s patient. His silhouette is all tension, shoulders wound and rigid. And you know in that instant that this will not be long — that this is not the reunion you’d been wanting since he left all those months ago. Steve is here because he needs you, but he will leave again because he loves you.

You will let him, without resentment, because you love him too.

Instinct makes you sit up to find the bedside lamp, but Steve’s on you fast, fingers curling around your wrist to guide your hand to his chest instead. “Don’t,” he breathes into the quiet, using the new closeness to suck your smell down. You’re using something new, a body wash that’s more floral than he remembers you liking and he feels something twist in his ribcage at the thought of what else he’s missed. What else has changed since he had to go.

Then, in that way you always do, you read his mind; glean his anxieties in the way he’s gripping you and tightening beneath your touch. You rise to your knees on the mattress, bringing you just shy of his full height as you bring your other hand to the back of his neck. It seems to hit you then that he is there, he is _real,_ and all your tender comes bursting out in a shaky gasp of his name. “Steve—,” you choke out, inching to the edge of the mattress until your bodies meet, “Oh, _Steve_.”

It’s all he needs to be comforted, and all at once, Steve bears down to meet your lips, humming at the taste of your toothpaste. It reminds him of the first time he’d kissed you: a peck over breakfast after you’d stayed the night through a storm. He swore to himself then that he could do it forever. That he _would,_ if you let him. But, before long, the shield took him from you too and now, he’s left to re-learn your mouth in the dead of night with kisses that won’t last nearly as long as he needs.

But, no amount of fleetingness, or inevitable heartache, could stop him from wanting this. You melt into it too, despite your better judgement. The press of his mouth makes you gasp, half from the intoxicating rush of emotion, and half from the sensation of hair against your face when it comes. You realize rapidly that Steve, once the quintessential pretty boy, has a beard. The logical part of you recognizes it for what it is - a necessity when you have one of the most recognizable faces in the world. But, the part of you that he’s drawing to the surface — hungry, needy, _lonely_ — just thinks about how good it must look on him. How good it’ll feel all over you. You wish now that he’d let you turn that light on.

Your nails drag through the hair along his jaw as the kiss deepens, and Steve grunts at the blunt sting. It’s like a switch is flipped, then; his hands careful but determined as they lay you down and strip you bare. He does the same to himself, pausing only to kiss you until he’s had his fill. When he’s naked too, he drapes himself over you, shivering when you’re intertwined because it had been too long. You fit against him just as perfectly as he remembered and he already knows this’ll be all he thinks about in the string of faraway safe houses.

Steve’s fingers find bare skin everywhere he can reach as he recommits your body to memory. He doesn’t have to see you to know when he’s reached his favorite parts; you still squirm when he gets that spot by your hip that tickles, still shiver when he traces the birthmark by your breast. By the time his thumb pads at where you want him, you’re buzzing and soaked, enough that you take two of his fingers with ease.

“Jesus—“ you gasp, hands coming up to grip his shoulders for purchase. It’s only then that you realize how long his hair has gotten too and you’re cursing how slow you move once again because you would’ve killed to see him in better light.

He meets your sounds with one of his own: a pleased hum at how easily you respond to him still. He curls his fingers slightly before starting to pump, working fast and focused to open you up for him. “God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs against your temple, absentmindedly bucking his hips when a particularly good twist of his hand makes you cry out. “I’ve missed _you_.”

You respond with a kiss that’s laden with your desperation; with months of longing and worry for the man you love. His hand stutters for a second, your mouth distracting enough that he has to work to regain his rhythm. But before he settles too deeply, your legs squeeze around his hips, trembling as you ask for more. He takes it to mean more of what he’s already giving you at first, but you shake your head when you feel him about to press in another finger. Before he can ask, you answer with a thumb over the head of his cock and fingers along the shaft.

“I know we don’t have long,” you breathe, mouth ghosting his to catch his quiet whimper, “and I want you before you have to go—“

Steve nods quickly, fingers slipping out of you to reach for the nightstand where he knows you keep condoms. As they do, you reach out to stop them, smiling up at him in the darkness with a shake of your head. “All of you.”

There’s a tick of stillness — but it doesn’t last long once your intentions click. Steve moves fluidly to fit himself back against you, one hand intertwining with yours by your head while the other guides him forward until he can find your mound. His cock probes blindly for only a second before there’s give and you both shake at the stretch and squeeze. “Oh, sweetheart,” he groans as you take him in, all wet and warm. He dips his head to drag his mouth against your throat, kissing slow as if to ground himself, and when you feel the rough of his beard, your walls flutter around him, making him curse.

He intends to let you adjust, but you have other plans, your free hand gripping him by the back of the head. “Please, Stevie,” you beg, already delirious with need for him. “Please don’t make me wait anymore, _please_ —“

There’s something in your tone that bowls him over — works him up so fast that he’s rolling his hips without even realizing he’s doing it. And when you cry out at the fullness, it spurs him on. Soon, he has you fully pinned, your hips angled and knees folded up while his hands hold your shoulders from beneath you. Your bedroom fills with the symphonies of your lovemaking — skin to skin, soft pants, broken moans. It’s all too much to handle after so long without him. And you can tell he isn’t going to last long by the way his breaths come fractured and fast.

Your hand falls between you to find your clit, and Steve hisses at the squeeze around him that follows. “Fuck,” he says, eyelids fluttering as he tips his head back. Being inside you bare is more dizzying than he ever could’ve imagined, but there’s more to the way he’s barreling to the edge than just feeling you fully. The thought of it, filling you up, keeps surging to the front of his mind: his cum dripping out of you long after he’s had to go. After that, it’s a slippery slope. It’s imagining you swollen with his baby — carrying a piece of him inside you even after he’s gone off to the next deserted corner of the world.

The more he thinks about it, the more he craves it, and his thrusts get sloppier by the minute. Again, you read his mind, babbling as you too inch closer to your peak. There are gasps of his name, intermingled with pleas for his climax, prayers for him to give it to you. All of him. Every drop. Your fingers move faster over your swollen nub as his hips rock frantically, searching the deepest parts of you again and again and again until you’re both seeing hot white across your vision.

But, Steve doesn’t stop even then. In his determination, he fucks you full of him, keeping his cum in place with slow, rolling thrusts that make you peak a second, calmer time beneath him. The bliss of it is draining, and try as you might to stay present so that you can soak him in for as long as you have him, you’re lulled to sleep by the way he blankets you and the soft weight of his lips as they kiss you goodbye.

When you wake hours later to an empty bed, you press a hand to your tummy and sigh into the sunlit room. You wonder if it took.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Beard Burnt & Bred](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321842) by [steverogerswhore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steverogerswhore/pseuds/steverogerswhore)




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